Shortly before the end
by Tozz
Summary: Sure, he knew what he was doing was noble. World-saving. Maybe even awesome. But dying still sucked.


Eerrgh, I feel deliciously dorky for writing this. DX

After I saw this wonderful fantabulous movie I had the desperate urge to write fanfic immediately, so I came up with this idea and jotted it down. It's about Flint's fall from the clouds towards his apparent death, and what he was thinking about from the time he started falling til the time the rat birds caught him and saved him. :3

Sorry if any details are inaccurate. I saw it a couple days ago so things are getting fuzzy. :P

FYI--the title was taken from an OK Go song of the same name, mostly because I couldn't think of anything better. But then I realized the lyrics fit. Sort of.

Thanks for reading! And reviews are very very much appreciated!

* * *

The last thing Flint heard was a deafening explosion, and then everything was swallowed up in the endless whoosh of air filling up his ears as he plummeted from the sky.

He felt the singe of heat from the blast scorch through his clothes and pinch at his skin, but he barely even noticed the sensations. All he could think about was how he was about to die.

And that sucked. A lot.

Sure, he knew what he was doing was noble. World-saving. Maybe even awesome. But dying still sucked.

He thought of all the inventions he might've made as the World's Best Inventor, but now would never even have the chance—and hey, maybe things were better off that way. Look at the trouble his latest invention got him into. Maybe this was for the best.

He thought about his dad, who would now be all alone, having lost a wife and a son. And that was all Flint's fault. He should've listened to his father when he had the chance. Why wasn't helping him at the tackle shop good enough? Why did he have to believe his inventions were more important? That being _liked_ was more important?

Why did his mother have to tell him to believe in himself?

He wondered if she was in heaven, and if he would meet her there—if there even was a heaven. Would she be proud that he did the right thing in the end, even if he'd messed things up so badly before he got there?

Or maybe she'd just be disappointed in him. He felt bad for even thinking it, but if he had to see his mother be disappointed him, he'd rather not see again her at all. Letting his father down had been hard enough.

Then again, maybe he wasn't going to heaven. But if not heaven, where _did_ he belong? He didn't even fit in on his own planet while he was living there—where was he going in the afterlife?

He closed his eyes, feeling the gusts rush through his hair and ruffle his coat. He could've been falling for an eternity or less than a minute—though he figured it was probably the latter.

He wondered how long it would take to hit the ground, and if it would hurt. How much, if it did. And what his last thought would be.

He decided it would be about Sam. At least he could control that much of his fate.

He knew they belonged together from the first time they met, when she understood the spray-on shoes. She was the first person who truly got it. If that wasn't a soul mate, Flint didn't know what one was.

He thought about the time they hung out in the giant gelatin palace he built just for her, and about the kiss they almost shared. More than ever he wished he'd kissed her then, so he'd know what it was like to kiss your soul mate before you died.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? He was a coward and he had too many regrets and it was his own fault.

Getting back to Sam—he definitely didn't want his last thought to be about self-pity—he remembered what she'd said before he cut the rope. She'd said liked him liked him. That she didn't want to lose him.

That had to mean something, right? As he dropped closer and closer to his doom, he allowed himself to think that it _did_ mean something.

That it meant that Sam knew they were soul mates, too, even if she never actually said so and they never actually kissed.

Suddenly, he heard a loud fluttering noise overtake him, but he kept his eyes closed, his brain slow to catch up with the source of the sound and reluctant to let go of the memory of Sam. But when it finally registered, he realized it was the sound of flapping wings.

He kept his lids tightly shut, almost afraid to open them—had he hit the ground yet? Was he already dead? Perhaps those were the sounds of angels.

Perhaps he was going to see his mother after all. And if he was, he wasn't ready to open his eyes yet.

The sound surrounded him and he felt the feathers beat against his skin, tickling his hands and face and exposed ankles where his pants were just a little too short. If this was how a person got to heaven, it sure was a funny way to go.

Finally, he cracked an eye open and saw a leathery tail swing past his nose. A _tail_? What kind of angels were these?

At the same moment his mind told him _rat birds_ his feet suddenly collided with something solid and he stumbled forward but managed to stand.

Immediately his ears were overpowered with another sound, this time the sound of a crowd cheering, clapping, shouting, and as he finally opened his eyes, he realized that he was alive.

He wasn't going to heaven. He wasn't going to see his mother. He wasn't going to die.

The rat birds had saved him, and he was alive.

He sucked in a big breath of air, engulfed by the wonderful euphoric feeling of living. Of being back on solid ground.

And then at all once his lungs froze solid and his heart stopped when he saw _her_ pushing through the crowds of people to get to him. Her face was slack in disbelief, but beneath it he could see a glimmer of joy.

He watched her lips move to form the syllable of his name, _Flint_, and he mimicked the action, except with her name instead.

When he spoke, his voice brimmed with the awe of a person who would know what it would be like to kiss his soul mate.

"Flint."

"Sam."

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End file.
